She rises each morning with a sigh. Her face, without its makeup, shows the cracks of despondency she so wishes to hide. From herself. Who cares about the others? As an old person who exercises the chinks in their joints before leaving the comfort of their bed, she seeks small mercies to start the day. There's Miff, her cat, needing food and a pat.
She has the luxury of those houses before her late shift. Time to do much or nothing at all. Part of her wants to kick off as many items from her to-do list as possible. They have been hanging their accusingly for weeks now. She senses how futile it is to remove any of the items since the moment they disappear, others instantly replace them. This thought adds to her lethargy.
She sighs again and turns over in bed, escaping back into sleep. Hours later, Miff is desperate to drag her back to her world and the need for her to move.
So, she reluctantly rolls out of bed, most of the day having played away. She swoops Miff in her arms and buries her face into her neck, whispering a profound apology. The cat jumps out of her arms. Directing her towards the kitchen. Guiltily, she spoons out an extra large portion.
She crouches beside Miff as she eats. Arms hugging her knees, head resting on her right shoulder, she daydreams.
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